Dear Ms. M

Published: Thursday, June 26, 2014 at 4:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Friday, June 20, 2014 at 4:34 p.m.

The last time I saw you, you were in your garden, squinting under a floppy straw hat and wearing a men's button-down shirt. There was dirt under your fingernails as you waved, chirping, “Come on up!”

We were basically strangers, you and I. Your plan to host a small fundraising garden tour on our behalf had me clambering through the flowers in your glorious backyard with a homemade sign proclaiming in vibrant Crayola, “Thank you for supporting the Boys & Girls Club of Henderson County!”

I didn't know what to expect. Foolishly wearing high-heeled sandals, I had my own kids trailing behind me, whining for a snack. It had been a long day. We struggled to keep up as you led us around, pointing out favorite perennials and native plants, warning us to watch for snakes that sometimes sunbathed on the rocks.

My children scooped tadpoles out of your pond with an empty pickle jar borrowed from your kitchen, and it didn't take long to understand why this was a sacred place to you. It didn't take long to understand why you chose your garden for a catalyst to support club kids.

You did this two springs in a row, hosting visitors as they explored the garden, just as I did that first afternoon. Your garden events generated a total of $565 for our club.

Looking back, I hope I thanked you thoroughly enough. I hope you realized how much we appreciated your efforts. Because the next time I saw you, I was looking at the photo situated next to your obituary.

I returned to your garden one more time to watch as your ashes were quietly folded into the earth. A few weeks later, we received an unexpected letter notifying us that you chose to include the Boys and Girls Club in your estate. A planned gift, they call it. Goodness gracious.

I imagine the way you must have planned your garden — the kind of thoughtful, patient cultivation that created that magnificent end result. Where to plant the vines? Which bulbs to force? Which side of the hill would the lilies love the most? I was touched to think you might have planned and tended so carefully for us as well.

There have been others through the years just like you, Ms. M. One by one, they planned. Many gave modestly in the moment, but tucked us into plans that would nurture our work for years to come.

To me, the beauty of these gifts is how intentional they are. These are planned, after all; they aren't spontaneous impulses. They are the products of our results, our shared priorities for the future and friendships earned through common experiences.

Today, Ms. M, I want to express my gratitude to you and to others who planned for us just as you did — many whom we may not even know about yet. You remind me of the bounty and resonance of authentic generosity. You inspire me to explore my own heart and imagine what I might do with my worldly treasures once I surpass the boundaries of the earth.

In closing, I wish I could tell you that I consider our organization an extension of your garden. Watching club members grow and bloom, I consider this your harvest — one more winding path, richly mulched and bursting with color in our community.

Please know that we accept your gift with a deep sense of responsibility and a promise to tend your garden with the same commitment and love that I witnessed that very first afternoon.

<p>The last time I saw you, you were in your garden, squinting under a floppy straw hat and wearing a men's button-down shirt. There was dirt under your fingernails as you waved, chirping, “Come on up!” </p><p>We were basically strangers, you and I. Your plan to host a small fundraising garden tour on our behalf had me clambering through the flowers in your glorious backyard with a homemade sign proclaiming in vibrant Crayola, “Thank you for supporting the Boys & Girls Club of Henderson County!”</p><p>I didn't know what to expect. Foolishly wearing high-heeled sandals, I had my own kids trailing behind me, whining for a snack. It had been a long day. We struggled to keep up as you led us around, pointing out favorite perennials and native plants, warning us to watch for snakes that sometimes sunbathed on the rocks.</p><p>My children scooped tadpoles out of your pond with an empty pickle jar borrowed from your kitchen, and it didn't take long to understand why this was a sacred place to you. It didn't take long to understand why you chose your garden for a catalyst to support club kids.</p><p>You did this two springs in a row, hosting visitors as they explored the garden, just as I did that first afternoon. Your garden events generated a total of $565 for our club. </p><p>Looking back, I hope I thanked you thoroughly enough. I hope you realized how much we appreciated your efforts. Because the next time I saw you, I was looking at the photo situated next to your obituary.</p><p>I returned to your garden one more time to watch as your ashes were quietly folded into the earth. A few weeks later, we received an unexpected letter notifying us that you chose to include the Boys and Girls Club in your estate. A planned gift, they call it. Goodness gracious.</p><p>I imagine the way you must have planned your garden — the kind of thoughtful, patient cultivation that created that magnificent end result. Where to plant the vines? Which bulbs to force? Which side of the hill would the lilies love the most? I was touched to think you might have planned and tended so carefully for us as well.</p><p>There have been others through the years just like you, Ms. M. One by one, they planned. Many gave modestly in the moment, but tucked us into plans that would nurture our work for years to come. </p><p>To me, the beauty of these gifts is how intentional they are. These are planned, after all; they aren't spontaneous impulses. They are the products of our results, our shared priorities for the future and friendships earned through common experiences.</p><p>Today, Ms. M, I want to express my gratitude to you and to others who planned for us just as you did — many whom we may not even know about yet. You remind me of the bounty and resonance of authentic generosity. You inspire me to explore my own heart and imagine what I might do with my worldly treasures once I surpass the boundaries of the earth.</p><p>In closing, I wish I could tell you that I consider our organization an extension of your garden. Watching club members grow and bloom, I consider this your harvest — one more winding path, richly mulched and bursting with color in our community. </p><p>Please know that we accept your gift with a deep sense of responsibility and a promise to tend your garden with the same commitment and love that I witnessed that very first afternoon. </p><p>Thank you, Ms. M, for all you've taught me with this gift.</p>